


Heaven to Touch

by FlyingAnita



Category: The Deer Hunter (1978)
Genre: Dominance, Emotions, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Romance, Teasing, how many times can i fit the word 'nod' into this, i just want these bastards to be happy, super gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 21:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16503365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingAnita/pseuds/FlyingAnita
Summary: "Sit on the bed," Nick said. He didn't look up.





	Heaven to Touch

**Author's Note:**

> title from Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You

The door slams behind him and he winces. It’s a couple days before the wedding, and it’s colder than it has any right to be this time of year. The day was long, even for the weekend. Nick’s been home, and Mike’s been out. He loads the countertops with brown paper bags and shouts out, earning no response. 

 

Mike sheds his jacket onto the couch, and then his sweater, leaving his shoes off by the door. His socks whisper along the floor as he heads back to the bedroom. Nick is hunched over a belt on the near side of the bed, shirtless. There’s a box between his feet, and he’s gently tossing things around inside of it. Mike recognizes it. It’s his.

 

"Sit on the bed," Nick says. He doesn’t look up.

 

Mike's not made himself strong enough to say no to Nick. He sat.

 

Nick stands and turns around to face him. He pulls the belt apart to reveal that it is in fact two belts, both Mike's. Thick leather, beaten into a soft form from years of use, thick brass knobs along the notches to make the fastening easy in the dark. They were the same brand, Mike's favourite. He hasn’t worn one but since the day before, and the other still has a bit of dust on it, having been collected from about five years in a box in the closet.

 

"Take off your shirt."

 

The situation was becoming clear. Mike found it very bold of Nick to dive into this without asking, without mentioning. They'd never touched before, not in the same bed, thousands of countless little brushes and embraces lost to the years rubbing against something in one's heart. Mike was a book to Nick, and he’s been pulled open.

 

Mike strips his shirt and tosses it onto the floor without ceremony. Nick ushers him back to the headboard and gently takes one hand by the wrist. He runs his thumb along the line that stretches from the bottom of Mike's palm to the soft skin of his forearm. Mike watches his eyes. Eye contact at that moment is electric, permanent meaning. A new marriage, some sort of sanctity. This would not be undone.

 

Nick pins that hand to one post and ties it there with the old leather. Like a magnet, he slowly and painfully pulls away and walks to the far end of the bed, and around to the other side. He takes Mike's other wrist and spreads his fingers out, exposing his palm. He seems to think for a moment, and then speaks through the fuzzy silence in a soft voice, a voice no louder than the hum of the city outside the window. "I'm not going to bind this hand. But you're still restricted."

 

Nick lets the other belt drop to the floor. Mike nods.

 

"Understand?" Nick asks.  _ Is this okay? _

 

Mike nods again. "I understand."  _ I am at your mercy. _

 

Nick nods. He nods again. Mike hears him step on bare feet. He walks to the far end of the bed, and Mike tracks him with his eyes. Nick pulls off Mike’s socks, a strangely intimate act, eliciting a small breath. It makes Mike feel open and exposed. Slowly but surely, he plants one knee on the bed and then the other, and then he crawls over Mike like a cat and his eyes are dark and his lips are parted. Mike says nothing.

 

He sits atop, thin thighs strapped across Mike's broader, bony hips. He wrapped the one gentle hand around his waist, feeling it cave ‘neath his touch. Nick leans forward into him, just breathing, mouth open in a blind haze, so close and near to take.

 

Mike inclines his face up and tries to kiss him. He moves just out of the way, his hot breath in a hot cloud and all the more alluring for it. Mike grunts exasperatedly as he chases and hits the end of his rope. He gives up and settles back down. Nick comes forward and does it again, this time letting just the tip of his nose brush along Mike’s cheekbone. Mike’s getting hard as he struggles for the second time to get closer. He knows it’s useless.

 

Nick cards his fingers into Mike’s hair and delicately pulls him back down to the bed. The sensation has Mike panting. His legs twist and rise.

 

“Stay still.”

 

He forces his legs to stop their writhing. Nick pushes his shoulders down with both hands and grazes the barest press of lip against Mike’s forehead. He pecks the edge of his temple, the other temple. His cheekbones, his cheeks, then he drags his bottom lip against a stubbled chin, where there’ll be a full beard tomorrow. He plants kisses down his nose and on his eyelids, and Mike feels more vulnerable than he’s ever been. But he trusts Nick.

 

His lips are searing where they land open on the bridge of his nose, and Mike makes a little gasp. His hips jump up into Nick, who leans forward and away, teasing. Mike groans, blushes. “C’mon,” he whispers.

 

Nick smiles in his way and chuckles a bit. He’s having fun tormenting, it’s easy to tell. “Hold still,” he says. “I just want to explore you right now.”

 

Mike’s face grows hotter, and his stomach is tight. He nods, though, and tries to relax. Nick goes back to doing things with his hands, his mouth, up and down and all over, and Mike has to take his hand off of Nick’s hip and clutch the sheets because all of the attention is too much and the way that his hip feels under his palm is overwhelming when he focuses on it. 

 

He leans his head back, leading Nick to latch his mouth onto Mike's neck. That really sends him for a spell, and he juts his hips up again, he gets contact this time, and it’s obvious how much Nick needs it too. He breathes hard and his eyes flutter and he pushes own, propping one hand on Mike’s shoulder and the other on his cheek. He grinds down and does it again, and loses himself for a minute in the motions. Mike’s composure is breaking up into tiny pieces and he’s moaning and an inch away from begging for more when Nick gets himself to stop.

 

Nick’s practically shivering, cupping his hand around Mike’s jaw. "Mike..."

 

“I’m aching, Nicky, please…”

 

Stands up and drops his jeans before Mike can follow what he’s doing, exposing plain underwear underneath, tight as you please. While he’s standing still for a moment, Mike can appreciate the rise and fall of his chest, and the sweet blush on the tops of his shoulders. Mike imagines that the heat is spread over the smooth expanse of his back, too. Nick heads toward the bedroom door. 

 

“Where you goin?” Mike asks.

 

Nick looks back over his shoulder and grins, biting his lip. It’s coy and classic and it’s drawing him in even as Nick gets further away, out the door. Mike doesn’t really realise that he’s gone until he hears the groceries shuffling around in the kitchen. He can hear Nick chastising him in his mind, for leaving the eggs and milk out on the counter to spoil. He hears himself say that it’s cold enough to just leave them outside.

 

He lets his head fall back and he groans out loud, as it comes to him clearly how head over heels he is.

 

He waits for what’s about an hour but feels like two for Nick to come back, and then starts to wonder if he will. As he waits, he approaches the conclusion that this is a test. A test as to whether or not he’ll free himself to go to Nick. 

 

Nick, who he would wait for at the end of the world. He calls out. Nick doesn’t respond, bastard. Mike chews on his lip and stops, knowing they’re already too chapped to enjoy.

 

He looks up and spots Nick in the doorway. He's got Mike's jacket over his bare shoulders. The sight of him fills Mike with relief, and he lets tension drain from his body like water from a cracked dam. He stretches his legs out. "Come here."

 

Nick smiles and pushes himself off of the doorway. This time, he closes the door behind him. Mike looks deeply into him. "Are the doors locked?" Mike asks, mostly out of habit.

 

Nick nods, striding an inch at a time closer. Mike squirms impatiently. Nick sits beside him on the bed, with his back to him. Mike turns his body onto the side, urgent for more contact. 

 

_ What have you done to me? _ He thinks.

 

Nick is silent. He turns around to look at Mike. "I love you," he mutters.

 

His chest pulls against itself and a sharp pain shoots out of his heart. "I love you. You know that."

 

Nick nods. "I know."

 

Mike nudges him with his knee. "Come here."

 

Nick stands up and pushes Mike onto his back. He takes the jacket off and undoes Mike's belt, leaning over him. The sun's setting outside, and golden light halos in from the pulled shutters.

 

Nick gets Mike's pants off of him and lays down beside him. He wraps one skinny leg around Mike's hip and kisses his chest.

 

"Not this again, Nicky," Mike says. "Kiss me. Don't tease."

 

Nick ignores him, mostly. "I'm kissing you," he mumbles, busy trailing down Mike's free arm. He bites Mike’s shoulder, leaving him breathless. He kisses his bicep, the inside of his elbow. He sucks on the flesh at his wrist and bites a little on the tip of his thumb. Mike’s keen not to give into rubbing himself off against the inside of Nick's thigh, but he's close.

 

"Nick," he begs, "please. Please."

 

Nick kisses his palm. He keeps his mouth there for as long as it takes for Mike to start blushing again. Then he pulls away. "Please what?"

 

"Please,  _ anything _ ."

 

Nick nods but doesn't oblige him in the least. He goes back to ghosting his lips across Mike's knuckles and kissing his fingertips. Mike isn't watching it happen, he's watching Nick's face, so it surprises him entirely when Nick wraps his lips around the base of his pinky and pulls off. Mike feels himself go wild but only can manage to sigh as Nick treats his ring finger the same way. His middle finger. Index. Thumb.

 

"God, Nick," Mike whispers, burying his head in Nick's neck. Nick laces his fingers through Mike’s and lifts his head back, looking Mike in the eye. 

 

“You have no idea what I want to do to you,” he says. Mike tries to convince a shiver not to run through his body like an earthquake, and loses the battle.

 

“Do it, do it all.” Mike has his blush back, angling his entire body into Nick’s space.

 

Nick kisses him on the forehead, unlacing their fingers and sitting up. “Not yet.”

 

Mike tries to stop him this time. “Don’t you dare,” he says, latching onto Nick’s wrist. Nick brings Mike’s hand up to his mouth and kisses him compassionately until he looses and then drops the grip.

 

“I’ll be right back,” Nick says, eyes dark and loving.

 

“Liar,” Mike says into the pillow, as Nick disappears out of the room.

 

Only minutes later, Nick’s singing is soft and floats through the hall, comparable to a ghost, made of honey.

  
  
  


It's dark outside.

 

Mike wakes up with Nick's lips on his. Finally.

 

Nick slides his hand around Mike's wrist and undoes the belt. Mike lets his arm fall to the bed, and the blood rushes back. Nick keeps kissing him as if his life depends on it. Mike returns in kind. Nick grabs the side of his face, his hair, his neck, anywhere he can get his hands. Mike keeps one hand on Nick's stomach, the other resting on the bed.

 

Nick smiles at him, leaving his space. "Dinner," he whispers.

 

Mike hums, and lets his eyes fade shut again. Nick caresses his hair indulgently. "You need to eat. Get up."

 

"Your fault I haven't," Mike complains, without the heat. But he gets up. He pulls a long shirt on. Nick's in sweatpants, and Mike's jacket. Mike pulls Nick in for another kiss before following him to the kitchen.

 

Dinner is just about the same as it is any other night. They talk and laugh and Nick lets Mike ramble on about ancient Native American superstitions and hunting proverbs. Nick watches him with new eyes. It’s not like he hadn’t absolutely adored Mike before tonight, but it’s easier to show now that the ice is broken. He watches him with a gaze so warm Mike feels like he’s melting under the heat of it. They sit on the same side of the table, as opposed to facing each other. It’s intimate and allows Mike to sneak in a kiss in between bites. Nick threatens to get fed up with it but doesn’t. Mike feels like a king having ended a war. He’s elated. He’s delighted.

 

They tell each other at least three times of their love. “I can’t believe this waited so long to happen,” Nick says, head on Mike’s shoulder. They’ve finished eating.

 

“I can’t believe it happened like  _ this _ .”

 

Nick laughs. “I hope you didn’t mind.”

 

“Didn’t stop you.”

 

Nick laughs again. “I love you.”

 

Mike tells him to clear the table while he cleans off the last night’s dishes. He’s standing at the sink. There’s a song caught in his head and his hips sway in time with his bobbing head. In order to keep the suspense up, and to make sure that at least most of the dishes are clean, Mike waits a while before he stands. He ends up lightly rocking back and forth in time with Nick as they stand there, water running, and Mike’s hands rest on Nick’s hips.

 

Nick starts humming, and it turns quickly into soft singing. Mike is sure that if a mirror sat in front of him then he would see a light on his face the likes of which have never been there before. Nick stands murmuring lyrics of Nat King Cole and watching the hot water create steam against the silver basin. Mike took each of his hands in his own and set them on the mouth of the basin. His mouth ends up on Nick’s neck and Nick ends up breathing heavy, singing interrupted and intelligible from the rush of the water anyhow. Mike, as he peppers the back of Nick’s neck and shoulders with sweet kisses, pushes the waistband of his sweats down over one sharp hip and then the other, until they fall to the floor. The briefs follow in quick pursuit. Mike pulls away for a moment to off his own shirt. 

 

He reaches around the front of Nick and through the water to turn off the tap. They’re left in some sort of silence that isn’t empty. Water drips and rolls off down the planes of Nick’s thigh when Mike’s hand returns to his hip to rest. Mike has to catch a wandering hand every few minutes and put it back on the sink. He keeps kissing and brushing until it’s clear Nick wants more, fussing on in whispers about  _ give, give. _

 

“What do you want?”

 

“You.”

 

Mike smiles silently. He pulls on Nick by the hips until he leans forward and turns around in Mike’s arms. Mike tries to get on his knees and Nick stops him quickly. “I haven’t ever, before.”

 

Mike tilts his head back to meet Nick in the eye, considering. “What makes you think I have?”

 

Nick shakes his head. He lets go of Mike’s arm. 

 

Mike gets him off easy enough. It’s nice and sweet, maybe a little awkward at first, but as soon as he feels the little shakes in Nick’s thighs, he’s just as much as a goner. 

 

They sleep in the same bed that night. They won’t be able to do it forever, but for now, it’s good, so good. He wakes up to a steely dark sky and the wedding bells, ringing as a test for the day to come soon. A crow flies overhead, letting its croaking call rip open the sky of a new day. He runs a hand over Nick’s hip in the dark and they start a new life, together.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :) leave me a sweet note


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